Books well traveled

I love books. I love many things about them. Their content teaches and amuses or irritates and forces to assess new points of view. It influences me often as written word has authority for me. Written – then it must be true or at least worth considering. I simplify my approach, of course. I am not naïve or gullible as all that. However, printed word has subconsciously stronger influence on me than spoken words.

                             

I also like nicely published books. Australian book – ONE; living as one and loving it by Victoria Alexander is an example of books I consider beautifully published. Another one on top of my list is Polish edition of Master and Margarita of Mikhail Bulgakov. I like to touch them, scan their beautiful pages, look at the illustrations. I think that I read almost all works of Bronte sisters because of being lucky to have a very nice edition of their books.

I also like smell of some books, even old musty ones. When I was very young and wondered who I want to be when I grow up I did not want to be a firewoman, this was suitable for boys. I wanted to work in a book shop which would also sell cosmetics. Hmm… I wonder about myself, at least my thinking in young years.

So, now that I have confessed my love for books, it makes it clear that it is very hurtful for me to part with them. But, I have moved around the world quite a bit. The first move was from a small Polish town Włocławek to Warsaw. This was an easy move. I did not have many possessions at eighteen. My father organized nice wooden crates in which I packed my books very carefully. And off I went to be a student in a big city.

After some years of living in Warsaw, I accumulated more books and was a proud owner of a great wall unit which easily housed my books plus other less important things. There was a room for expansion. And then the time came to move again. This time the move was serious, out of Poland. My father organised more wooden crates and I packed my books again. In those days nice carton boxes that removal people give you did not exist. Books packed in wooden crates are heavy. I heard loud complaints from people carrying them from the forth floor without lift to the container lorry parked downstairs– Please, not more books! I felt sorry for the removal men and guilty.


                                          

The books landed up in a storage space somewhere in Vienna while I lived bookless in Paris for one year. Then we all got reunited in Düsseldorf. It was great! My new Polish bookcases were placed in a special room, all my books were comfortable and there was room for expansion.

I gave my books a rest for two years and then we were on our way again. This time the journey was very long, we were going to Sydney. Books and all.

It was a time of stability for books and me for quite some time. Again, there was a special room for my bookcases and their content in my first houses in Sydney. We were all stable and happy. But the next move required changes; there was not enough place for all my books in the new house. I had to give away many of them to various libraries and charities. This was painful. My friend, who volunteers in St Vincent de Paul shop, tells me that many donated books are thrown away. I am glad I did not know it then.

This was not the end of travels of my books. I decided to go and live in Poland again. My precious bookcases went to charities together with many of the books. The most precious of the books went with me of course. We landed up in Gdansk this time. It was stability time again.  I had place for books and time to read. I bought more books to add to my so brutally culled collection. However, nothing lasts forever. Some years later it was time to come back home – Sydney. And this is where after our travels, I and my books are now.

My fascination with books – beginnings

Books, or rather insufficient space for my books, became a problem. Mainly because getting a new bookcase has been on my project list for almost three years. I was not moving forward. This has been annoying, disappointing and even affecting my self-esteem as it was a promise given to myself that I have not kept for such a long time. Place for my still unpacked books was on my daily agendas for too long. This was so important because I have a very close and intimate relationship with my books. 

My family home had a build-in bookcase covering the whole wall. It was a really big bookcase, dominating the room. My mother was the force behind decorating the place and esthetics was very important to her. I wonder if she ever had enough time to read the books she arranged so nicely, tastefully coordinating their colours. She was a working woman and it meant her work took a lot of time and energy.  Watching television was an easier option to reading.

Books in my mother's collection, so proudly displayed sent a message to me that they are important element of life. The bookcase housed a comprehensive collection. The books were beautifully published, mainly as series of classics, hence colour coordination worked well even preserving connection of subjects. I may seem a little sarcastic about my mother’s esthetic needs, but I some could say that I have inherited it myself. Mind you, it is not likely I’ll colour coordinate books, especially if they are from vastly different subjects.

Back to the bookcase.  There was a blue shelf with all works of one of the Polish poets Slowacki. There was also maroon and gold stripes shelve of all works of another Polish poet. The poetry books looked beautiful on the shelves but I was not that much interested in their content.  Maybe I was too young? Maybe there were really boring? The shelves of a lesser quality of publishing drew more of my attention. The brick colour shelf was my friend for a long time. It was the left top corner of the bookcase and I needed a chair to climb for closer inspections and taking books for reading. The shelve housed another Polish classic – Sienkiewicz. Unpronounceable name and he is little known to the world even though he was a Nobel prize winner in 1905 “because of his outstanding merits as an epic writer”. His novel Quo Vadis about martyrdom of first Christians in Rome was adapted into a Hollywood film with Peter Ustinov and Deborah Kerr. It was a big spectacular production still shown on Australian television sometimes.

Monument of Sienkiewicz in Villa Borghese in Rome

Sienkiewicz was very prolific writer and his novels spanned from historical epics to short stories. One of his less famous novels The Polaniecki Family may have been responsible for my romantic education. In my very young years some of the messages from the book most likely got installed in my subconscious. I wish I read more practical stories at the time of being easily influenced.

There were mainly Polish books that occupied the shelves of the bookcase but at some stage Galsworthy, English contemporary of Sienkiewicz, appeared as well. He also became one of my favourites. Looks that I liked longer forms of literature and I read many sagas. Canadian Mezo de la Roche – Jalna, Buddenbrooks, Forsyte Saga and some Polish ones. It is only now I have fully realized this preference of mine.

This post seems to be self-indulging, but why not. Quite appropriate subject for a person waiting for delivery of new bookcases! More on me and books later. 

How to live Prime Minister ???

Some years ago my favourite politician Donald Tusk intended to show interest and compassion towards people affected by adverse weather that ruined some crops. It worked very well up to the point  when he met a capsicum grower. He was an articulate and outspoken man. His complaints and demands towards the government were as substantial as ill justified. He spoke emphatically and at length for more than 10 minutes complaining at the weather and the government. I was in Poland at the time and watched the program live, after a while I became impatient with repetitions and silly arguments but one statement got my full interest and attention. The man who was worried about losses in his capsicum plantation asked Donald Tusk : and how to live Prime Minister???

For some reason the question became well known in Poland and it is now proverbial with me.

In the recent times I experienced many setbacks, health problems, complications, bad news, loss of friends and generally massive lack of luck. It has been perhaps the most difficult time I have experienced. I believe that I am over the worst and now on the mend physically and emotionally. Many things redefined themselves in the hard times; I was no more sure about my values or meaning of life.  During those times the question of the capsicum grower was coming frequently to my mind: How to live Prime Minister??? In asking the question I was equally pathetic as the outspoken capsicum man. I was not asking any Prime Minister for answers but perhaps even I was addressing a superpower. Not sure, but I was sort of desperate and I literally feverish.  This is my excuse.

                                                           

On reflection, I came to think that it is really a good question, a coaching question. There are times when things change so much in our lives or we get such a jerk that we need to look and reevaluate few things. I am a great believer in importance of knowing and understanding our personal strengths, purpose or meaning, believes and values. This is how I approach career transition issues when I coach. Now it is time for me to go to my personal drawing board and look again at what really is important to me. I have not done it in a structured way yet, but I already know that friendship, learning and contribution will be on my short list. I am glad to realize that the most important has not changed in my personal earthquake.

I am recommending to anyone the capsicum question: How to live Prime Minister? Only let’s seek the Prime Minister and the answers within us. 

Water Diviner - fairy tale with lessons

I was not planning to see the film. I thought that I had seen enough of war films being brought up on Holocaust based films and literature. I understand that there have been tragedies that nations can not just forget even if many years have passed since the events. War stories have been regurgitated as, of course, there is a lot to process and hopefully learn from. I understand that Gallipoli has been such an event for Australia and I respect it. That does not mean that I wanted to lower my, in recent times, fragile mood. I was not in the market for a depressing story. In fact I was in a need of something uplifting.

I am very glad that a friend gave me a gentle push and I decided to give the film a go. It was mainly for the company of my friend, though, I decided to see the film after all. And here came a big, nice surprise. I really enjoyed the film. In comparison to the holocaust inspired films this was really a light weight event. Fun, sweet, romantic, beautiful scenery took over the deadly serious subjects of war. I loved a lot of this hardly believable story. I needed a fairy tale and I got it. When I think of how the hero of the film, Connor, found locations of his long lost sons, how he managed to get support for his mission from unlikely multinational sources, water divining mysteries, by contrast, seem to be most likely and scientific.  

The film is telling a war story and teaches about its atrocities, about forgiveness, about duality of truth but not always in a solemn way. Some of the “holly” subjects are even slandered and this does not hurt their holiness. Even the love story is highly improbable but so sweet and pleasant to watch that one forgives lack of psychological probability. I did anyhow.

"Everything is in the coffee" - she says as she helps the fate a bit but cheeting

What I find interesting is that Russell Crowe, the film star and the director is to me a quintessential “simple Aussie boy” even if born in New Zealand – a larrikin, tough, no nonsense person who seriously supports South Sydney Rabbitohs – a rugby league team. There is more sensitivity, romanticism and softness to the Aussie boys that I had understood. 

Conor and his cheeky, little  helper 

I reflected on Polish ways of making war inspired films. Sure, there have been comedies related to the war subjects but Water Diviner style is somewhat out of Polish possibilities to make a war film in a similar way. At least, I perceive it that way. I think I leave my national comparisons without further reflections. It could lead to a total confusion of my readers and me.

Bottom line – I recommend the film.

Memories of Christmas

Christmas went by in a way that it was not too exuberant for me. Nice and homely though.  There were no Polish excesses of 12 dishes on my Christmas Eve table this year but my Aussie favourites – oysters, prawns and a blue swimmer crab. Even if I do not follow the lessons of my original catholic upbringing, I still follow the tradition of fasting on Christmas Eve. Fasting in the sense that no meat should be present on the table this special day. In this case, I am more catholic than the Pope. The Christmas Eve fast has been actually abolished some time ago by Vatican. But at my family home there was never any meat this evennig and for some reason it is important to me to keep the tradition.

Even if it was a non event Christmas, I got two presents that I enjoy very much and that have left a mark of Christmas 2014. I am a tea drinker and all accessories related to tea are very important to me. I have many tea pots and special tea cups but I still stop at tea shops and examine any possibilities to add to my collection. My friend recognising the weakness of mine, gave me for Christmas a lovely tea pot and matching mugs. I am enjoying my tea in the new mug while I am writing this post.

Another special gift from another dear friend was a book by John Baxter – The Most Beautiful Walk in the World. John Baxter is an Australian writer who lives in Paris. As it turns out we, John Baxter and I, have at least one thing in common. Love for Paris is the thing. For many years I have been fascinated by France and French and especially Paris. A promise of three years of life in Paris many years ago, made me leave my home country. It turned out to be only eleven moths and the Paris assignment continued, to my chagrin, in Dusseldorf but I had great time in this wonderful city even if at that time I was home sick crazy.

The book about Paris woke up my love and fascination with Paris. It also reminded me of flaneur-ing. I heard first the word flaneur from another friend of mine, who likes the word so much that he is going to camino flaneur-ing in Spain. This is taking the word flaneur to its extreme. So many kilometres of flaneur-ing! I think that this is a great plan, Hans, and I envy you.

So what does it mean to flaneur? It is to wonder the streets without an intent to get somewhere but just to observe what’s around. Diane Johnson, in her book Le Divorce, defines it as "mess[ing] around with no guilty sense of being unoccupied." So maybe Hans will  not  exactly flaneur in Spain as his intention is to get to Santiago de Compostela is clear.

Rain should not stop a real flaneur

After reading the book and under its influence, I took into flaneur-ing in Mosman. My observations include inspecting the neighbouring properties. Checking the architecture, gardens, size of the houses, local pets.... I am wondering if being a flaneur in Mosman does not carry a bit of danger of being misunderstood for a Peepping Tom. Paris is definitely the ideal place to flaneur, but for now Sydney suburbs will have to do for me.

Curiosity and need for detail in observations are important to a flaneur

Flaneur-ing in Mosman made me notice that gardens of the properties are shrinking and the houses expend their living space. This is not a happy observation. Green spaces are shrinking. Mosman Council pay attention!

What Winter Sleep and Serena have in common?

I have seen two films in the last weeks that made a big impression on me. Winter Sleep is one of them and Serena the other. My assessment of the length of the films was as it turned out subjective. Winter Sleep is 3 hours and 16 minutes and Serena 1 hour and 49 minutes. Yet, in the second half of Serena I had an impression that  I have been watching another veeery long film.

I consider Winter Sleep an outstanding film for many reasons, Serena seems to me to be an outstandingly silly film also for many reasons. Serena should not have been made at all in my opinion. My movie companion was wondering what made those relatively good and popular actors Jennifer Lawrence and Bradley Cooper take the roles. She also downgraded the rating given in Rotten Tomatoes (1.5) to -5. 

Beautiful people but a very silly story

                                

It is a really silly story which I fully realised trying to summarise it to my friend. There are a couple of interesting points related to the film though. Rhys Ifans known to me better as Spike from Notting Hill plays is the film. I have not noticed him playing in any other film so far but now he caught my attention. Not that he played well his pathetic role in Serena, he was not funny there at all. Sad role and sad story.

I preferred him as Spike

                                          

 I also found out that the film was made in Prague. This is a very beautiful city but there was no opportunity to show the town maybe except for some interiors.

Winter Sleep is not a film which I would easily recommend either, but I had a ball. No much fun but bringing many points worth thinking about. Human conditions type of questions concerning universal dilemmas:

•       To what extent are we able to look at ourselves objectively

•       How to help others without humiliating receivers of our benevolence

•       Gaps between intentions and results of related action

•       Human reactions or lack of it towards evil

Those are questions without answers really, even though we humans try again and again to answer them. Nuri Bilge Ceylan, the director of the film does it in a way that I got some new insights to the life dilemmas. He made many films by now but this is the only one I have seen. I will try to fill in the obvious gap in my familiarity with Turkish cinematography. And Ceylan in particular.

Three names of world deep thinkers and writers are often mentioned in relation to the film : Dostoyevsky, Chekhov and Shakespeare. Heavy weight, all of them and that includes Ceylan who is apparently a Chekhov’s fan.  

Dark interiors of the hotel create sense of intimacy and show the mood of  the film 

The film takes place in a beautiful and haunting Cappadocia. Watching the film I developed strong desire to go and visit the caves and stay in a cave hotel for few days.

Aydin, the hero of the film runs such a hotel. He has been a successful and famous actor and now is a man of considerable means who lives in his cave palace on top of the mountain and owns a village lower down. People who live there depend on his governance. They are like serfs at a mercy of a king. Is the king Aydin a good king? He wants to appear as such but his sporadic generosity only serves his own purpose. He is strangely uninvolved in matters of the village.

 His courtly remoteness often hides cruelty. He is like a schoolmaster ready to punish his villagers, his wife and his sister. Or at least sermon them in a patronising and belittling way. We observe him often through the eyes of his wife and his sister and we see a deeply lonely and cruel man who can watch suffering with indifference. Detached observer of pain and cruelty inflicted on others.

I was particularly moved by the scene of taming a wild horse. The drama of taking by force spirit, freedom and dignity of the animal through violence of the strongers is heart breaking. Symbolic horrifying scene.

On reflection I do recommend Winter Sleep as an important film.